Starstruck (27 page)

“See me at seven, sharp. Oh and I’m in the mood for
Mexican.” The line went dead.

Sam cursed under her breath as she slammed her front door on
the way out.

Within moments of entering Daniel’s private office, she
broke down. He greeted her with a huge hug, but when he released her, he
frowned like a concerned father.

At the mere mention of Jerico she lost it again, falling
back into his arms, sobbing like a baby.

She told him everything. Aside from her own angst, she
worried her actions might damage Murphy Graphics’ good reputation. He put her
mind at rest, insisting he’d handle whatever media attention came their way.

Later that day, he replaced her mobile phone, but she never
bothered to take it out of the box. If the staff at the studio had seen or
heard of the articles published about her, no one mentioned anything and for
that she was grateful.

Dinner with Caitlin that night was a huge release. After a
nice spicy meal and a few bottles of wine, she opened up, finally able to share
the load. Caitlin was satisfied when she got her answers and Sam rid ten pounds
of grief she’d carried on her shoulders since leaving New York.

Caitlin tried to tell Sam she thought Jesse Maurello was an
honest man, but Sam didn’t want to hear it. Her and her cousin’s gifts
complemented each other but their abilities were very different. Caitie
generally had to meet a person before she could read them so anything she had
to say regarding Jesse went in one of Sam’s ears and out the other.

The remainder of the week, she worked day and night on the
Jerico contract, hoping to have it completed by Friday. As much as it pained
her to stare at Jesse’s face, she was really proud of the end results by the
time she couriered the originals to Vince Clarke late Friday afternoon.

She continued to ignore Jesse’s calls—as well as those from
the media. Her answering machine was continuously bombarded and she refused to
acknowledge any of them. Caitlin had shown her some magazines with articles on
the man, Becky and her, but a quick glance at the glossy pages only enraged Sam
further. She snapped at Caitlin when she suggested Jesse might be telling the
truth.

Saturday morning, she slept in after an exhausting week,
woke just after midday and lazily trundled out of bed.

After a breakfast of tea and toast, she sorted through her
mail from the past three weeks. She couldn’t avoid the task any longer. There
were the usual bills and she tossed the junk mail without even looking through
it.

The last item was a small padded bag that contained
something hard—the return address New York City.

She stared at it for a long time before flipping the parcel
over. She didn’t recognize the name on the customs label. She left it on the
table and finished her breakfast before indulging in a long shower.

Afterward, she unpacked her new phone and inserted her old
SIM card before charging the battery. She’d spent a lot of her week at the
studio answering personal calls from friends and family regarding the claims of
her being a heroin junkie. No one close to her believed the gossip. They just
wanted to check she was okay, and then invariably asked lots of questions about
the infamous Jesse Maurello.

Deleting all the calls on her answering machine, most of
them from reporters, she filled Saturday with housework to keep her mind
occupied.

When her new phone was fully charged, she listened to the
messages stored since she’d smashed the last one. She had to give Jesse credit.
He was proving to be
very
persistent. Once her voicemails and texts were
cleared, she went back into the kitchen, picked up the small package and ripped
it open.

What fell into her hands was the wooden box containing her emerald
and diamond necklace…and with it a small card.

My dear Sam,

No matter what happens, this will always belong to you.

Love,

Jess xxx

She lost track of how long she sat in her kitchen, crying
into her hands.

* * * * *

Sunday morning Sam rang Daniel at home and requested an
emergency leave. She wasn’t up to concentrating on anything and considering the
substantial business she’d just produced for the company, she deserved some R
and R. Daniel agreed. He thought she could use a break as well and volunteered
his houseboat moored on the central coast for a small getaway.

She gladly accepted and invited Caitlin to join her. A
week’s worth of girl time was just what the doctor ordered. Unfortunately
Caitlin could only take a few days off work, but at least Sam would have
company for part of her vacation.

She and Caitlin drove up the coast that afternoon, stopping
to buy supplies on the way. Sam had her boat license and since she had used her
boss’s boat on many occasions, had just the right spot in mind to anchor before
they got settled for their first night on the calm lake.

They stayed up all night, talking and drinking tequila
shots, and slept most of Monday away, lulled by the soft sounds of the water
licking the sides of the boat.

Chapter Eighteen

Jesse and Rick spent the evening rehearsing Jerico’s first
single in preparation for tomorrow night’s exclusive performance on national
television, which would be followed by six straight days of TV and radio
interviews.

All throughout, Jesse nursed the hangover from hell. He’d
attempted to drown his heartache, but no amount of alcohol would wash away his
sorrow. Tylenol and bottled water were his current best friends.

“Why don’t you try her again? She should have landed by
now,” Rick said as Jesse quietly strummed the chorus of
Destiny
.

“Yeah…maybe I will.” He put down his guitar, grabbed his
phone and left the music room, heading for the kitchen while dialing her
number.

The call went straight to voicemail. “Sam, it’s me again.
Please call me back. We need to sort this out. I’m flying to Chicago tomorrow,
but I’ll have my cell on whenever I can. I…I really need to talk to you.”

Why were three little words so hard to say?

* * * * *

“Come on, man. Get
up
!” Rick banged on the bedroom
door.

Jesse groaned and raised his head off the pillow. They’d
stayed up late rehearsing—Rick insisted on adding
Destiny
to the album
and Jesse hadn’t put up much of a fight. Playing it after failing to get ahold
of Sam, he’d never heard such honesty, such longing in his own voice before. He
couldn’t deny the song would be a hit—maybe their biggest yet.

He finally got out of bed when Rick almost broke down the
door. After Jesse shoved some clothes into a suitcase, they made a pit stop so
Rick could pack, and then headed to the private airstrip where the band’s jet
was waiting.

Jesse checked his messages every chance he got, but Sam
never called. By the time they touched down in Chicago, the rest of the band
steered clear. They had dealt with his wrath before and made the wise decision
to leave him alone. He was generally a fairly quiet and peaceful man away from
the cameras, but when he was pissed he was a different person entirely. His
temper didn’t rise often—maybe that’s why it scared his friends when it did.

He coasted through the week as best he could, wearing his
stage face during the many interviews and performances of their new single. His
thoughts were never far from Sam though. He called her at least twice a day,
always diverted straight to voicemail. She didn’t return any of his calls. He
rang her studio, but her secretary kept putting him off, saying she was either
in meetings or not in the building.

Exactly nine days after Sam had left New York, Vince called
Jesse to say he’d received the artwork and wanted the band to meet the following
day for final approval.

Jesse hung up and looked around the living room of his
house. He used to love this room, but now it only reminded him of what he’d
lost. Finding her singing with his guitar, sketching on the lounge—the armchair
where she’d thanked him for writing her song. Everywhere he looked there was
Sam.

I’ll have to move if this keeps up.

He had five days off before they flew out again, this time
to LA, but before he could relax he and Rick had to do
Up Late with Quincy
Ray
. A limo would be picking him up soon.

He stared at the phone before dialing Sam’s number once
again. “Sam, how many messages do I have to leave before you’ll call me back?
Yell
at me if you want…but please just call me. I miss you.”

* * * * *

His ride arrived promptly at eight, Rick already in the
backseat. They rode to the television studio in silence, Jesse’s mind
calculating how long it would take to fly to Sydney and back.

They signed autographs for the crowd out front before being
ushered inside for hair and makeup. They were Quincy’s first guests and would
also close the show with an acoustic version of their charity single. Jack
already had plans for the night, so Rick was stepping into his shoes on guitar.

Relaxing in the green room, they waited to go on.

“You okay, man? You’re a bit jumpy.”

Jesse stopped pacing a track in the floor to look at his
friend. “Yeah, just thinkin’ about a few things. That’s all.”

A small, anxious man talking into his headpiece entered the
room and indicated it was time to go on.

He and Rick answered the usual run-of-the-mill questions
they’d grown accustomed to with every album. Quincy and Rick traded drummer
jokes and the audience lapped it up.

Things went well until the subject of Jesse’s impending
engagement to Becky Sampson came up.

He shared a knowing look with Rick before pasting a smile on
his face. “I’d actually like to take this opportunity to set the record
straight on that evil rumor. You see, Ms. Sampson and I broke up two and a half
months ago. We have
not
been together since, nor will I
ever
be
with her again in the future…distant or otherwise.

“And I agree with you, Quincy. The photos you’re referring
to do look really incriminating…that is to anyone who doesn’t know the truth.
That woman’s damn lucky I don’t have her charged with sexual assault. I was
unwittingly coerced into the production of those photos and I firmly deny
having any kind of relationship with her since we broke up. And I gotta say,
the people who write this kinda junk really need to get their facts straight. I
wasn’t available for comment so it seems they thought they had license to make
up whatever they liked regardless of who got hurt by their lies.

“It’s not right. Someone…someone I care about deeply read
and believed that headline. These people are playin’ games with my life. What
they print doesn’t just affect me, it affects people close to me. Honest people
are payin’ for the mistakes of some clown in an office somewhere who didn’t do
their job and confirm the facts. The only truth to that article was the
spelling of my name.”

Quincy frowned. “The woman who was allegedly rushed to
hospital that night. Can you tell us anything about her? Was she a friend of
yours?”

“Actually, she’s more than a friend. Much more. She’s
someone very special and close to my heart. I can’t go into any details because
the incident is still under investigation, but that beautiful innocent woman is
the biggest victim in all this. My only hope is that the person responsible for
putting her in the hospital will be caught and brought to justice.”

After the interview, Jesse and Rick returned to the green
room to wait for the show to end. On cue, they followed the same small man from
earlier to a location at the other side of the stage. A set of guitars,
microphones and stools were set up for their closing number.

At the last moment, as the lights dimmed and Quincy
introduced them, Jesse whispered to Rick that he wanted to play
Destiny
instead of the song they’d planned. Rick nodded, letting Jesse lead the way.

The audience soaked up the new song and its taste was
bittersweet on his tongue. When he peered out into the darkened crowd, two
women in the front row were shedding tears and he wasn’t far from joining them.
He sang with everything he had, his emotions exposed for all to see, passion
permeating from every word.

Finished for the night, finally back in the waiting limo, he
told the driver to take them both back to his place.

“Shit, Jess! Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna out Becky
tonight? She is gonna
freak
when she sees the show.” Rick chuckled.

“She deserves everything she gets though I’ll probably get
my ass chewed off by Vinnie,” he said, wearing his first genuine smile since
Sam had left.

“Nice to have you back, man.” Rick slapped Jesse’s knee with
a huge grin.

Back at Jesse’s, Rick opened a bottle of wine while Jesse
bolted upstairs to his room. The first thing he did was ring his PA to find him
a flight to Sydney that night, and then he hurriedly packed a bag.

Within minutes, his cell rang. The earliest flight to
Australia—on any commercial airline—was tomorrow afternoon with a few
connections along the way.

“Call Mannie and see if he can get the jet ready tonight
then call me straight back. Tell him I’ll double his usual fee if he’ll do it.”
He hung up, doing a final check that he had his essentials.

He carted his bag downstairs and passed Rick in the kitchen,
swiping the glass of red wine out of his hand as he went to the music room. He
stared at his collection of beloved guitars, picked a blue Ovation from the
stand and put it inside a hard case.

He strolled back into the kitchen, put his wineglass on the
counter and pointed at it. Rick poured a refill as Jesse placed his guitar case
next to his bag.

“I was wondering how long it was gonna take ya.” Rick sat on
a stool and Jesse joined him across the counter.

“Well, if she’s not gonna take my calls, what else am I
s’posed to do?”

“You really do love her, huh?”

Jesse avoided eye contact, circling the rim of his glass
with his fingertip. “Maybe I do.”

“What are ya gonna do when you get there?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ve got her address. I’ll start there, I
guess.”

“When’s your flight?”

“I’m waitin’ to hear back. I’m hoping Mannie can take me.
Commercial flights are fully booked until later tomorrow and I don’t wanna wait
that long. I’ll be cuttin’ it close as it is with all the shit we’ve got
booked.” He downed his wine.

“We fly out to LA in six days. You
have
to be back by
then. And Vince won’t like you taking the jet on such short notice. Are you
gonna even tell him you’re goin’?”

“Fuck Vinnie. It’s
our
plane, not his. He doesn’t run
every friggin’ aspect of my life.” He poured them each another glass, finishing
the bottle.

“How ’bout I come with ya?” Rick smiled.

“What? You hate long flights. Why would ya wanna do that?”

“Hot babes, bikinis, sun, surf…what do ya think? I haven’t
got any real plans for the next few days. I had a few parties I was gonna check
out, but that’s no big loss. Besides, you need someone to keep you out of
trouble. I’ve never seen you this fucked up over a woman before. And I can give
you some charm lessons on the way. Maybe that’s your problem,” Rick said,
squeezing another laugh out of Jesse.

“All right, but it’s your funeral. She’s probably gonna kill
me and you’ll get death by association.” Another small chuckle escaped him.

“You’ve got a point. Got any ball protectors handy? I don’t
wanna meet the fate of Travis, do you?”

* * * * *

Sarah was ready for stage two—albeit majorly pissed off due
to recent complications. She sat at JFK Airport, waiting for the next flight to
Sydney. Being on standby was a bitch and patience wasn’t her best virtue.

She’d thought Samantha Raven was out of the way for good,
but the quest was proving to be more challenging than she had first thought.
She’d missed her chance at the show tonight but had followed the limousine back
to Jesse’s house.

While sitting in the car across the street, she’d decided to
call it a night just when his front gates reopened. She’d dropped low in her
seat as the headlights flashed across her window, and then waited a few seconds
before starting the rental and trailing behind.

She hadn’t been able to follow Jesse and Ricky when they
turned down the private road that led to the hidden airstrip.

Where the hell are they going?

They weren’t scheduled to be anywhere for the next few days.

Fuck!

She didn’t like surprises. Not unless she was giving them.

She drove past the exit and doubled back shortly after,
pulling out her phone. By the time she reached the city limits she knew exactly
where the boys were headed.

Lesson number four—stay one step ahead.